Home
by Dedeen
Summary: Post 4x02. "They didn't have sex. They made love."


Follow up after episode 4x02. (This was prompt by the end scene and fueled by heart-tugging snaps with a certain cute pup)

**Heart Eyes***

Rated M

I own nothing

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Erin's POV.

I sip my beer and watch this crazy man measure the entire living room, telling me about the improvements he thinks are necessary. He's been going on about it since we came home and I can't find it in me to interrupt him because his enthusiasm is heartwarming. It is not until he wants to move my posters that I have to intervene.

"Those are all signed by the bands," I remind him.

He stops in his tracks and says, "They'll look just as good over there." He grins and starts walking towards me. "Cause I have an install guy, and he is an _artiste_."

"Oh," I say walking towards him - his boyish charm trying to win me over.

"No wires, nothing," he adds, as if an aesthetically pleasing view of a television would suddenly convince me to move my posters.

"Jay…easy," I say chidingly.

He smiles sweetly and says something about 'not forcing' a man-cave on me and I go on about 'figuring it out.' It's what couples do, right? To be honest, I've never let myself move forward in a relationship. Even with Jay I have opted to cool things off before it got serious. I don't know why this has been a knee jerk reaction for me. I don't blame my relationship qualms on my troubled upbringing because I did eventually live in a stable home. I've experienced the loving devotion of a mother, the support of a father, and the comradely of a brother.

But I've lost a lot in the last couple of weeks and I don't want to lose the one thing I have left – Jay. Trust me, I surprised myself when I asked him to move in with me while blurting out my feelings for him like a school girl. I've been pretty distance and closed off lately and I wanted him to know just how much he means to me - that he is the one person I trust with my life.

"I'm just glad you're going to be here," I say.

He nods and when he looks at me with that kind of attention, making me feel like I'm everything to him, I feel profoundly humble— loved. I let my breath mingle with his and we kiss slowly – there's no rush. I can taste him on my tongue, holding and savoring it before finally letting it go when he pulls way.

"Hey, by the way," he says softly, "I love you too."

I feel my lips curve into a smile because this is not news to me. Although he hasn't verbalized this before today, I already knew this to be true. I'm a complicated ball wrapped in self-preservation and I haven't made things easy for him. But when I needed him most (and least deserved it) he stuck around, despite his own demons, and helped me pick up the shattered pieces of my life. If that's not love…

We kiss again, it's languid and unhurried. The way I imagine people kiss when they know they have a lifetime together to look forward to. Jay's touch is tender and there is none of the heated frenzy that usually colors our life because passion is not at the center of our desire. Closeness is. I break our kiss and reach for the hem of his shirt. His muscles are taut, his skin hot even through the cotton. His lips meet mine again and I wrap my arms around the nape of his neck and pull him closer.

Our kiss deepens slowly, softly, the intensity gradually growing, like a blaze that starts with a single match and flares into a wildfire. His hand find my shirt strap and he slides it down my shoulder and goes for the other strap. I begin to walk us towards _our_ bedroom and we wind into each other like thread. Our hands are hasty, and then more gentle, uncovering and tantalizing. I want to stay in this moment forever.

Jay turns us around and backs us slowly towards the bed, arms wrapped as solidly around me as mine is wrapped around him. He then gently eases us on the bed, sliding his body over mine. For a moment our lips part and he hovers over me. I kiss his cheekbone, his jaw, and finally his mouth, a light press of lips on lips. He smooths back my hair and cups my cheek before his lips are back on mine. His tongue eases past my lips, enticing and sweet. My shirt is gone and his hands slide down, and he undoes my jeans, pulling them down along with my underwear.

My hands reach for his belt and fumbles with the button on his jeans. Jay pauses what he is doing and helps shimmy his pants and boxers down his legs. Once everything is off, flesh on flesh, his fingers glide over my wetness and a quiet moan escapes my lips. My eyes slip close as he leaves my mouth and finds my breast instead, his tongue twirling around me, teasing it before closing his lips around my nipple. My hands move across his bare back, then lower, cupping him from behind and pulling him flush against me.

He then begins to move his mouth lower, peppering kisses down my stomach. I know where he is headed, but instead of letting him please me, I decide to return the favor. I push him away and down on the bed to climb astride him. He arches his eyebrow and is pleasantly surprised as I begin to pour kisses down his stomach and stroke him slowly. I shift and take him in, my tongue circling his velvet tip while he clenches his fists in my hair groaning. He lets me kiss and caress him for minutes until he sits up suddenly and pulls me to him and leans over to kiss me.

I return his kiss and he starts loving me anew. He begins to taunts me, kissing the inside of my thighs, then parting my legs and stroking me, building my need. One of his hands is between my thighs, the other tracing my breasts. I ache beneath his touch.

My need climbs to a fever pitch and he knows it. He then moves between my legs and enters me slowly, surely, drawing out each stroke before going back inside me, deeper, but not faster. Not yet. I let him set the tempo. The sweet, unhurried pace makes my body melt under his skillful touch. My body craves him and it molds to him as if we'd always belonged. Two puzzle pieces finally put together. I'm enjoying the slowness of it, relishing each stroke, letting him pause inside of me before pulling out again. It is so unlike any other times we had sex. It is so slow, so deliberate that I'm surprised when I feel the familiar build of my climax.

I savor the winding coil of desire that whispers through my body, becoming urgent with each passing second. I unintentionally groan my impatience and Jay is quick to note.

"Don't worry. I got you," he soothes with a devilish grin.

I nod and my jaw clenches tight with the every slow thrust. My minds clouds and I float dizzily with each heart-stopping, knee-weakening, toe-curling touch of his hands and lips. This feeling is like a drug – it's insatiable. It is too much and not nearly enough.

When I finally let myself go, I moan quietly into his mouth as the wave washes over me in effortless pleasure. Jay reaches his climax a second after, unable to bear the sweet torment of his own pace any longer. As many times as we've done this, it is this time, this simple, purposeful lovemaking that I have a sudden realization.

We didn't have sex. We made love.

Jay tenderly cradles the back of my head and dips his forehead to mine. He waits a few moments, catching his breath, and murmurs against my lips, "I could do this forever."

I chuckle, liking rasp in his voice. "No breaks?" I tease.

His normal grin is absent, but his eyes are bright and alive. "What I mean is…" he plants a light kiss on my lips and adds, "I can do this with _you_ forever."

A grin curves my lips as heat and light exploded inside my body. I don't say anything, instead I kiss him. My mind is awash with love. I'm genuinely considering moving my posters.

We make love again after that and it's just as unhurried and slow and mind-blowing.

I've been living in this apartment most of my adult life, but for the first time it feels like I've finally come _home_.

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Thank you for reading. Now excuse me while I go take a cold shower.


End file.
